


New Regime

by sIngedwIngs



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 14:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11969223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sIngedwIngs/pseuds/sIngedwIngs
Summary: Light assaults her eyes as she forces them to open, fluid sticks to her like syrup. Her fingers struggle to find a grip. Her body resists the first breath of air into her lungs, the first since she died. But she is no longer dead, simply reborn.--Or the self-indulgent au where Karen is the one who dies and gets resurrected. But this will follow a different storyline to The Defenders.





	New Regime

**Author's Note:**

> So this is me stretching my writing legs for college because hot damn I need a decent upload schedule again. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this self-indulgent fic because I sure am enjoying writing it!

At first, there is silence. Blissful peace, a sense of floating, not just mentally, but also physically.

She feels warm and safe, she never wants to leave this blissful state of being. But she hears voices, her muscles flex and ache, ready to be used again. Her lungs demand air and her skin demands sunlight. She needs to be born, she needs to see the world. But warmth and safety beckon her back to the abyss, if only for a few minutes.

Soon enough, the choice to wake is not hers. Her eyes, though closed, feel light and cold air hitting them. Her chest heaves as she fights to not take a breath, she wants to resist almost as much as she wants to comply. The voices hush now as if she is performing for an entranced crowd. She can feel the tension in the room, sticky fluid grips to her face, body, clothes and hair. Her throat tightens due to lack of air.

Light assaults her eyes as she forces them to open, fluid sticks to her like syrup. Her fingers struggle to find a grip. Her body resists the first breath of air into her lungs, the first since she died. But she is no longer dead, simply reborn. The light of the living world is muted, almost grey as she observes her surroundings as she takes in as much air as possible. Wisps of mist cling to her eyes, she blinks but the mist remains. Her arms wrap around her body as she stares around at her audience, mutely afraid.

She feels numb at first, but then the pain kicks in. The sound that escapes her throat doesn't sound human. Finding the strength to pull herself from the 'bath,' she lands on the floor. She tries to speak, her eyes scan the people watching her. Her eyes settle on the woman who is approaching her, a hand is offered. She takes it, and before she can even think of attacking this stranger, she is on her knees. She strains and struggles.

"Easy, my child. Easy, easy." Warm hands cup her face as she lies in the messy pool of liquid. The woman smiles, but her eyes are cold and unforgiving. "Go ahead, you'll need your strength." 

"I know you're afraid, but that will pass and so will the pain. This is your home now, we are your family. I have waited so long to meet you. Language will come back to you. So will your instincts but everything else.... I'm afraid it wasn't worth keeping anyway." The woman pauses to step back. "You were born, you lived and you died, and what you saw on the other side, the darkness, the absence of everything. It's horrible, isn't it?"

She is in no shape to reply, but she senses the question wasn't really meant to be answered. Her mind searches for the word.  _R-rheto-rhetorical._ Satisfaction courses through her, she's sure she'll remember more soon. With a jolt, she sees that the woman is still speaking.

"-'ve seen it too, more than once, and all I want in this life is to never see it again." She purses her lips, "but now that we've been brought together that's not something we need to worry about." She runs her hands through her soaked hair. Smiling gently.

"My name is Alexandra, and you, my child, are Hades. You have returned to us from the Veil, you are the Black Sky. You are a warrior." Alexandra smiles, but she- _Hades_ doesn't feel like a warrior, she feels broken and scared. Her body feels fragile, her mind is the only thing intact yet she still feels the tendrils of madness creeping up on her due to her inability to reply. She feels mute and much like a caged animal. But Alexandra must sense this as she crouches to meet Hades' eyes. The equal playing ground relaxes her, soothes her unsettled nerves and she manages to twist her lips into a half-smile, half-grimace.

She offers her hand again. This time, she- _Hades_ takes it and stands. Despite her legs screaming in protest. She whimpers in pain, closing her eyes as she is led away to get cleaned up. Hades can sense the woman-Alexandra-watching her leave, but her mind is too fatigued to pay too much attention to the strange woman who brought her back from death.

 

* * *

 

 

She is taken to a pristine white-tiled bathroom. The woman who escorted her to the bathroom runs a bath, then helps her climb in. The woman, whose name is Cara, washes her hair gently, massaging the scalp until the liquid is gone. Cara shows her the soap and then respectfully waits by the door with a towel.

She's given clothes and is left in the bathroom. She takes this time to take in her own appearance and is rather startled by what she sees.

Long, blonde hair falls just past her shoulders. Her skin is deathly pale but is definitely gaining more colour now. Her eyes are startlingly blue, a surprising dash of colour to her profile. However, upon further examination, she finds no real evidence of exercised muscle. How can she be a warrior if she has had no training?

Her eyes drop to her lower abdomen, spying wounds that have been forced to heal. They are dark, heavily contrasting with her pale skin. She runs her hand over them and finds herself wincing even if there is an absence of pain. She then presses the tips of her fingers into the marked skin and cries out in agony. Her reflexes move her hand from the affected area and she is surprised to find that the pain ceases immediately.

Now, she examines her hands. Her finger tips are icy cold which she puts down to poor circulation. There are bruises on her wrists which she cannot explain and her nails are bitten down to the flesh, she shudders at the habit from her previous life and returns to examining the marks when she realises that Alexandra is watching her.

Alexandra must sense the discomfort rolling off of her in waves because she takes her hands into her own and gives them a gentle squeeze, the slight pressure providing some kind of comfort to her.

"That was then, Hades. Your life may be new, but your body is not." She says regretfully, gesturing towards herself. "It is best not to dwell on such things, or they will consume you." She leads Hades from the bathroom into a long corridor, as they reach the end of the corridor, Alexandra pauses before she speaks.

"Now, your training begins."

 


End file.
